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filk: Greensleeves My arrows faithfully find their mark But when I beckon a comely lass She flies away like a skittish lark. Oh, lonely shall I spend my days. Never to find my true love. Fighters always get the girls And leave nothing for us but the crumbs. My aim is true with a lady love From twenty yards, my shaft hits the spot While fighters flail 'round with hunks of steel To compensate for what they've not got. My skin is softer than purest silk My body free of disfigurement. So why do ladies near and far Seek victims of dismemberment? I've killed ten score of the bravest men With arrows right between their eyes. But let a swordsman come in the room And all of the ladies will let out sighs. My skill in archery is my life But ladies fair I have never scored. So I've put for sale my finest bow, And bought a big bloody bastard sword. | |
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Carlough
Brooding over the old disgrace That black FitzWilliam's stormed yer place, Drove you to the fens! Grey said, "Vicar, leave assured. Soon the fire-byrne we'll secure." Until he met at Glen Malure With Feach MacHugh O'Burne! Chorus Curse and swear, Lord Kildare! Feach will do as Feach will dare! Now, Fits William have a care Fallen is your star, lo! Up with halberd, out with sword! On we go, for by the Lord Feach MacHugh has given the word: "Follow me up to Carlough!" See the swords at Glen Amough: They're flashin' over the English Pale See all the children of the Gael Beneath O'Burne's banner! Rooster of a fightin' stock Would you let a Saxon cock Crow out upon an Irish rock? Fly up and teach him manners! Chorus From Tassangart to Claymore There flows a stream of Saxon gore We're great as Rory Og O'more At sendin' the lions to Hades! White is sick, Grey is fled, Now for black FitzWilliam's head! We'll send it over drippin' red To Queen Liza and her ladies! Chorus | |
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Filk: Windmills Men wondered at spring, born of winter's cold strife Wondered at the games of the moon and the Sunlight, They saw there the Lady and Lord of all life. Chorus And around and around and around turns the good Earth All things must change as the seasons go by We are the children of the Lord and the Lady Whose mysteries we know, but we'll never know why. In all lands the people were tied with the good Earth Plowing and sowing as the seasons declared Waiting to reap of the rich golden harvest Knowing her laugh in the joys that they shared. Chorus Through Flanders and Wales and the green land of Ireland In kingdoms of England and Scotland and Spain Circles grew up all along the wild coastline And worked for the land with the sun and the rain. Chorus Circles for healing and working the weather Circles for knowing the Moon and the Sun Circles for thanking the Lord and the Lady Circles for dancing the dance never done. Chorus And we who reach for the stars in the heavens Turning our eyes from the meadows and groves Still live in the love of the Lord and the Lady The greater the Circle, the more the love grows. Chorus Chorus | |
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Closer to Daylight
filk: Closer to Eleven by Lyra and Rael of Preachain filk: Closer to Fine by the Indigo Girls With many bottles of good brew And the meat of Ailsun's deer Pop Chiv said the party would be a big one. So we set out with our mugs to have much fun This was war practice, after all. Yeah..right. Into our camp came friends from the Consortium. With good songs & good cheer within their hearts Then the Period Police appeared to wreck our campin' But Lord Uilleagh chased them off with his "O Narseman" He is Spearcatcher, after all. Chorus We started at our camp And moved on to their camp And everywhere we reveled We raised the noise level And the more I think about it and look back in time, I wish that I had brought more wine. And I must keep an eye on the time, The closer it gets to daylight. The closer it gets to daylight. I need to seek the Herald of Meridies And bring to Baron Hywel my tales of woe I tried to get my name passed And sent in my device They get shot down with comments that are not nice But it's only paper after all. And I must submit it til I get it right, The closer it gets to daylight. Sir Bryce stumbled by the fire at 3 am To seek solace in Drambouie and to drum with some good friends A dancer lost a tassel, it got stuck in Gryffri's ear I went over to him and said, "Have a beer, Hips do project things after all." Chorus Lord Malcolm and Sir Theatyn soon joined us Sir Fiachna told us legends of the Yam. Someone said "potato", Then he said "po-tah-to". And then the knight caught Malcolm drinking beer, So he bade us all goodnight. Chorus | |
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There lives a subtle spell... The faint blue smoke, the gentle heat, The moorland odours tell Of white roads winking by the edge Of bare, untamed land, Where dry stone wall of ragged hedge Runs wide on either hand. To cottage lights that lure you in From rainy Western skies; And by the friendly glow within Of simple talk, and wise, And tales of magic, love or arms From days when princes met Too listen to the lay that charms The Connacht peasant yet, There honour shines though passions dire, There beauty blends with mirth-- Wild hearts, ye never did aspire Wholly for things of earth! Cold, cold this thousand years-- yet still On many a time-stained page Your pride, your truth, your dauntless will, Burn on from age to age, And still around the fires of peat Live on the ancient days; There still do living lips repeat The old and deathless days. And when the wavering wreaths ascend Blue in the evening air, The soul of Ireland seems to bend Above her children there. | |
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I'm for the Holy Land sailing, To win back Jerusalem's walls I'm for the Holy Land sailing, And I'll win my fortune or a martyr I'll fall. As my ship sails out I watch the far coastline, Leaving my kinsman my heart is full pained I've traded all for the cross at my shoulder, No land for a third son so I'm away Chorus As I look around me at the men on the benches, Their eyes are like mine so I know their hearts pain I sing them a song of bravery and battle, Now their eyes shine like the keen polished blade Chorus We're for the Holy Land sailing, To win back Jerusalem's walls We're for the Holy Land sailing, And we'll win our fortune or as martyrs we'll fall I followed King Richard to Sicily island, Joanna's dowry against Tancred prevailed Now a fortune in silver, a new wife hath Richard, I've a swift horse and a fine coat of maile Chorus At landfall in Cypress they refused Berengaria, Richard in anger has answered in steel Now the crown of Cypress he's added to England's, I've added knighthood's gold spurs to my heels Chorus I followed the banner to battle at Targrin, Held it aloft when it's bearer was slain We've given Richard a tower o'er the city, He's given me rank and a full captain's pay Chorus On the coastline at Tarsus we met with the Paynim, We won the battle though many men fell One was a baron with lands that need tending, Now they are mine and I'll tend them well Chorus Now I sit in court over Christian and Muslim, I've a strong keep and soldiers ten score King Richard's army has sailed back to England, I've said farewell for I'll see them nay more You see I'm in the Holy Land staying; to guard my own castle walls I'm in the Holy Land staying, I've won my fortune so farewell to all. | |
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How the legends used to make me smile... And I knew given half a chance I'd kill so many with my lance, And maybe I'd be famous for a while. So death and bloodshed I'd deliver, With every arrow from my quiver. All this bloody hassle, Just to defend one castle! I remember how he shed a tear When he learned of Lance and Guenivere And something touched me way down here, The day the Table died. Chorus Hail, hail, to the fellas in mail! Slaying dragons, saving damsels, chasing after the Grail. We fought off evil, til our faces were pale Wondering if there was a chance we might fail, Could there be a chance we might fail? Hast thou read the Book of Merlin, With its stories that Sir Rod of Serling Could have penned for the Twilight Zone? Dost thou believe in legend'ry, And all the tales of chivalry Like the one about the Longsword and the Stone? Well, Lancelot came from Par-ee To serve in Arthur's calvary He sweated off his tail, to wear the royal mail. When Lance had won his confidence He met Queen Guenivere by chance And melted down his iron pants The day the Table died. For several years, Lance and the Queen Had kept their meetings clandestine Finding ways to be alone. 'Twas on a fateful summer's day When Mordred found them in the hay And the Frenchman knew his cover had been blown. Arthur cried, "Swear by Excalibur, That you truly did not lie with her!" The notion was absurd. Lance said not a word. And so the knight, no longer chaste, Unto his native soil he raced Left Guenivere alone to face The day the Table died. Chorus Convicted of a grave offense By Mordred's damning evidence, Guenivere was set to burn. Arthur loathed his bastard son For all his work had been undone But he vowed the tables would be turned. Having Lance arrive to save the day He carried Guenivere away The king was so relieved. His true love was reprieved! Then Guenivere became a nun And Lancelot had no more fun And Mordred soon was on the run The day the Table died. Chorus I stand guard at this castle door, Though Arthur reigns not anymore Camelot's a memory. It does my heart good to recall The mighty kingdom's rise and fall And the space it occupies in history. The spirit of those days, it seems, Continues only in our dreams For there we can enjoy it; Let no one dare destroy it! One prophecy of days of yore Says Arthur shall arise once more To make all as it was before The day the Table died. Chorus Chorus | |
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filk: The Irish Washerwoman We've asked him to leave, but he won't go away. Now he's talked to our king and they worked our a deal: No more homes will he burn and no crops will he steal. Now there is but one catch, we dislike it a bunch: Twice a year he invites him a virgin to lunch. Well, we've no other choice, so the deal we'll respect, But we can't help but wonder and pause to reflect: Chorus Do virgins taste better than those who are not? Are they salty, or sweeter, more juicy or what? Do you savor them slowly? Gulp them down on the spot? Do virgins taste better than those who are not? Now we'd like to be shed you, and many have tried But no one can get though your thick, scaly hide. We hope that some day, some brave knight will come by, 'Cause we can't wait around 'til you're too fat to fly. Now you have such good taste in your women for sure, They always are pretty, they always are pure. But your notion of dining, it makes us all flinch For your favorite entree is barbecued wench. Chorus Now we've found a solution, it works out so neat, If you insist on nothing but virgins to eat. No more will our number ever grow small, We'll simply make sure there's no virgins at all! Chorus | |
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mka Guy Bradley Half a dozen horses and a wagon load of hay There had been a party, hangovers galore Our clerics were unconscious and our fighters saddle-sore. Chorus And there were dragons, dragons, flying o'er the road, Wyverns all around us and behind us yellow mold And there were orcses, orcses, filling all the wood They all jumped upon us because we were lawful good. We were not discouraged. We were set to fight But we had drunk ten gallons of the finest mead that night! Sir Morris was disheveled, Sir Percy was the same And the elf who traveled with us was too drunk to know his name. Chorus The dragons got the horses, the orcs got even more And chewing on our wagon was an ugly manticore. We finally woke our wizard, he would make them pay But he rally pulled a boner when he mumbled spells that day. Chorus His fireball misfired, his lightning missed the mark And then the party found itself encased in total dark He tried to polymorph them, that dirty ancient louse And we did not think it funny when Sir Kay became a mouse. Chorus Our fighters bravely battled, but it was all for nought 'Cause we had not the measure of the monsters that we fought T'was our bard who finally saved us, for he could do no wrong And he really had them running when he belted out this song! Chorus | |
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mka Alexandria Long | |
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Wonder as many of what they are made? For they're hard as the highlands and cold as Loch Sloy Scots hae a spirit tha' nay can destroy. Chorus And it's hey to the highlands, hello to the low If ye leave a Scot breathin', he'll strike the last blow As the English Chieftain so angrily knows, A thistle bows not to the rose, a thistle bows not to the rose. Born in the damp winds and raised in the hills Those who reach manhood have iron-like wills For the weavers and the rovers and the brigands, it's known A Scotsman looks after his own, a Scotsman looks after his own. Chorus Now french ladies charm with their glances and sighs But give me a lassie with fire in her eyes. Aye, Scots girls are fiery, they're long, and they're lean, Sharper of wit than a dirk it is keen. Now lovin' the women's like juggling with knives; Too many at once and they'll look to your lies. Find ye but one lass and stay to her true She'll fight at your back and share all that you do. Chorus Now some call us heartless and callous and cruel But a Scot's a survivor and nobody's fool. We've wagered though the ages of hardship and strife Sometimes it takes a hard man to lead a hard life. So we'll pipe 'til the blood sings, and we'll drink liquid fire Watch where ye tread lest ye risk Scottish ire Hark ye the words of the MacKintosh Clan Touch not the cat without a gloved hand. Chorus Chorus | |
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filk: Moondance All their lace in the moonlight will glow. A fantabulous night to make fops run Through the barbed wire fences so low. And all their blood will be flowin' When I sever their heads! You know they won't be goin' 'Cause they'll be dead...oh, so dead! Chorus Can we just have one more fop hunt, Danu, tonight? Can we just make some more fops run, Danu, tonight? Well I wanna take heads with you tonight, I can't wait for the mornin' to come. And I know if I hold my spear just right, Then straight into the point fops will run. And all their spleens will be ruptured And their entrails will flow I'll slash their femoral arteries Then they'll run really slow! Chorus Well I'm walkin' around with a fop's head With his testicles shoved up his nose And I know I'll complete my collection With the rest of our buttery-butt foes And every time I kill one I just tremble and shake You know it feels so good To put their head on a stake! Chorus | |
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Four blind mice are dead See how they lie See how they lie Four dead bodies on the ground Four dead bodies on the ground Poor dead mice Poor dead mice | |
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Bound though the valley so shady He whistled and he sang 'till the green woods rang And he won the heart of a lady. Ah dee doo, ah dee doo dah day Ah dee doo, ah dee day dee He whistled and he sang 'till the green woods rang And he won the heart of a lady. She left her father's castle gate, She left her own true lover. She left her servants and her estate To follow the gypsy rover. Ah dee doo, ah dee doo dah day Ah dee doo, ah dee day dee She left her servants and her estate To follow the gypsy rover. Her father sadled his fasted steed, He roamed the valley all over. He sought his daughter at great speed And the whistling gypsy rover. Ah dee doo, ah dee doo dah day Ah dee doo, ah dee day dee He sought his daughter at great speed And the whistling gypsy rover. He came at last to a mansion fine Down by the River Claydee, And there was music and there was wine For the gypsy and his lady. Ah dee doo, ah dee doo dah day Ah dee doo, ah dee day dee And there was music and there was wine For the gypsy and his lady. "He is no gypsy, my father," she said, But lord of tehse lands all over; And I will stay 'till my dying day With my whistling gypsy rover." Ah dee doo, ah dee doo dah day Ah dee doo, ah dee day dee And I will stay 'till my dying day With my whistling gypsy rover." And I will stay 'till my dying day With my whistling gypsy rover." | |
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filk: The Twelve Days of Christmas It violates the Rule of Three." The next time I tried it, the heralds said to me: "We changed the forms, And it violates the Rule of Three." The third time I tried, and the heralds said to me: "We upped the fees, We changed the forms, And it violates the Rule of Three." Another time I tried, and the heralds said to me: "We haven't got it, We upped the fees, We changed the forms, And it violates the Rule of Three. " The fifth time I tried it, the heralds said to me: (monastic chant) "In a decision rendered by the College of Arms on August 1rst, A.S. V, it was decided that this type of heraldic design was not appropriate to the aims and intentions of the Corporate Body. Holy, Holy, Holy! ...We haven't got it, We upped the fees, We changed the forms, And it violates the Rule of Three." I tried it a sixth time and the heralds said to me: "It's against the Rule of Tincture, "In a decision rendered by the College of Arms on August 1rst, A.S. V, it was decided that this type of heraldic design was not appropriate to the aims and intentions of the Corporate Body. Holy, Holy, Holy! We haven't got it, We upped the fees, We changed the forms, And it violates the Rule of Three. (Angrily) The last time I sent my device, the heralds said to me: (Smugly) "Someone else has got it, "It's against the Rule of Tincture, "In a decision rendered by the College of Arms on August 1rst, A.S. V, it was decided that this type of heraldic design was not appropriate to the aims and intentions of the Corporate Body. Holy, Holy, Holy! ...We haven't got it, We upped the fees, We changed the forms, And it violates the Rule of Three! | |
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mka Guy Bradley He's born to degradation in every degree Of sword blows and shield drills he never has his ease He has so many masters that he don't know who to please. Chorus Knights, boys, knights; it's knights we ought to be. Knights, boys, knights; by His Magesty's decree The sword and the shield and the whipping boys are we Oh, it's great to be a squire, but it's knights we ought to be! Go to your knight if you want to learn how to fight He'll cave in half your helm and he'll say the shot was light You sue that blow in tourneys and you quickly gain some fame Then your knight comes back to practice and he takes you out again. Chorus Go to the Earl Marshall if you want your weapons checked He'll say you're under-armored with no padding on your neck You make a sturdy gorget out of steel wrapped up in cloth When the first blow breaks the buckle and you cannot get it off. Chorus Fight in a crown tourney if you want to feel a fool Get beaten in a round, if you're lucky you'll last two. You go back to the sidelines, but your lady isn't there She's hanging on the winner and you're left just standing there. Chorus Then you go to the Chiurgeon 'cause you're feeling mighty ill The chiurgeon looks you over and he gives you a pill Then if you die he'll say you're out of his hands. The chiurgeon's done his duty and he doesn't give a damn. Chorus You find a comely lady and you carry all her gear You come right back and find you knight a-whispering in her ear You try to curb your anger 'cause you never had a chance Then they borrow your best sleeping bag and send you off to dance. Chorus Go and find the autocrat to get a place to sleep He'll say there's no more beds, but the mud ain't very deep. You finally get to bed nestled underneath a tree Then you wake up in the morning with a double dose of fleas. Chorus Go tell the Kingdom Seneschal of thinking you have done She'll tell you of the problems of her job which isn't fun You finally do explain to her the nature of your plan Then she says the king won't buy it, and she doesn't give a damn. Chorus The other peers I'm sure will find my tale hard to believe I shall explain it shortly; you indulgences I plead you say that your associates do everything we do But I've yet to see a protégée get beaten black and blue! Chorus The populace may wonder why we're eager to be knights To take on peerage status and a belt that's colored white The answer's far too simple for me even to discuss For anyone with eyes can see they're better off than us. Chorus | |
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Weird of Swen now hear you. How good Lars he harried, Pestered with questions. Late at meadhall light burned; Lars did strive to largen Belly with a bowl of Boiled fish his mission. And some chunks of chicken, Cheese and bread and peasoup, Finally pounds of pancakes Paired with lingon berries. Smallish snack he snuck while Woozy wife lay snoozing. When inside there wandered Forth a fellow northman. Lars did greet him greatly For he knew the gruesome Tales of host who hasten Travellers forth from doorstep. Lars did ask his name then. "I am Sven," he mentioned. "Sven I am," he stated. "Do you like lutefisk and yams?" "Nay" said Lars, "though largely Like I food most goodly, but I do not like lutefisk and yams, I do not like them, Sven I am." "Ah," said Sven most sagely. "Would you eat them on a trip? Would you eat them on your ship?" "Nay," said Lars, "though largely Like I food most goodly, but I would not eat them on a trip. I would not eat them on my ship. I do not like lutefisk and yams, I do not like them, Sven I am." "Ah," said Sven most sagely. "might you eat them on a raid? Might you eat them with a maid?" "Nay," said Lars most strongly, "Like I food most goodly, but I would not eat them on a raid, I would not eat them with a maid, I would not eat them on a trip, I would not eat them on my ship. I do not like lutefisk and yams, I do not like them, Sven I am." "Hmmm," said Sven, "Good fellow, would you eat them on the field? Would you eat them off your shield?" "Nay," said Lars most wrothly, "Like I food most goodly, but I would not eat them on a raid, I would not eat them with a maid, I would not eat them on a trip, I would not eat them on my ship, I would not eat them on the field, I would not eat them off my shield. I do not like lutefisk and yams, I do not like them, Sven I am." Sven then looked most crafty. He then slyly stated: "Would you eat them served up cold? Would you eat them if I paid you gold?" "Well," said Lars, "since largely, Like I food most goodly ... I might like lutefisk and yams, I might like them, Sven I am." Sven produced this Swedish yam and lutefisk sample. Lars did test this tasty Treat then longly pondered. Stoutly, Lars then stated: "I despise lutefisk and yams. I despise them, Sven I am. I will not eat them served up cold. I will not eat them if you pay me gold. I will not eat them on the field, I will not eat them off my shield. I will not eat them on a raid, I will not eat them with a maid, I will not eat them on a trip, And I will NOT eat them on MY ship! I do not like lutefisk and yams, I do not like them, Sven I am." And he slew Sven. | |
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And let ye be wise that are fools But remember each day That your trade would decay If a maid didn't look to your tools. The blacksmith, the smokey old blacksmith He's known as a jolly old fellow But his iron would burn old And his fire would grow cold If a maid didn't blow up the bellows. And then there's the candlestick maker, He works up the tallow so quick. But his craft would be marred And the works not get hard If a maid didn't hold up the wick. The ploughman, the jolly old ploughman He follows the plow in the silt. But it's ne'er a clod turned If a maid hadn't learned him To drove the blade up to the hilt. The brewer, the jolly old brewer He maketh a very fine ale. But his brew would be waste If there's no maid to taste And make sure it doesn't' go stale. So come all of ye journeymen, craftsmen And all who are apprenticed to trade For it's never a srcew Or a nut would be turned If it weren't for the help of a maid! | |
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mka Guy Bradley Country and for King And many's the tale that I could tell Or song that I could sing. I've fought in Beltane's driving rain And struggled for each breath; At Salt Wars and Oleno where We damn near froze to death. I've had my share of bruises and I've watched the arrows fly, But the strangest thing I've ever seen Was the man who wouldn't die. He stood a tow'ring seven feet A giant among men. His armor was of twelve-gauge steel His hide it was of ten. From a land most far away he came, Their champion and King, And many crafty ways he had To make your helmet ring. The battle lines they soon were joined And much to my surprise, I was locked in single combat with The man who wouldn't die. We circled round a time or two Then I opened up the show With an underhanded wrist shot which Is still my favorite blow. He didn't even try to block, Just brought that great sword down And split my helm completely from The chin up to the crown. And thought my sword was still entrapped In the dent made in his side, "What a mighty Knight" his people cheered "Is the man who wouldn't die." Full four and twenty fighters fell Before his awesome might, And though many blows did land it seems That every one was light. The battle soon was over and By God's own blood he went Off to the sides to doff his gear And hammer out the dents. The second battle soon began And I took another try, Bearing a sword named "Rhino's Bane" For the man who wouldn't die. For "Rhino's Bane" was a special blade Immortals for to cow. And if he had not felt those blows He'd damn well feel one now! Three feet of rattan I center drilled Then hollowed out the head And filled that hole with six or maybe Seven pounds of lead. A single shop was all I'd get; I raised that sword on high, And buried it within the helm Of the man who wouldn't die. He didn't even bat an eye Just calmly struck me down, And then went on to clear the field Of Squires, Knights and Crown. I pondered why this man was not A'stretched out on the dirt; I guess a head shot does no good With nothing there to hurt. The third engagement was delayed To give the chiurgeons time To pry the sword from out the head Of the man who wouldn't die. A battle deep within the woods Was the last fight of the day And the men remaining on my side Went on their knees to pray. "Oh Lord, if you care for us, Allow your moon to fall, Upon this man for that would be The only blow he'd call." But as we marched atop a hill A plan occurred which I Thought maybe could lead to the death Of the man who wouldn't die. Upon this hill there lay a stone A full six feet in girth. "Oh gather round my fighters bold We'll bring this man to earth! Ten stalwart lads I need with me to Strike the final blow, While the rest shall keep behemoth here Occupied below. And when he stops to fight you From up above will fly This boulder full upon the frame Of the man who wouldn't die." It happened just as I foresaw From out the woods he ran And stopped there right below us as According to the plan The men below fought bravely while The men above did strain To send that boulder from the hill Onto his alleged brain. At last the stone it stirred to life And with a final pry, We sent that boulder on its way To the man who wouldn't die. Knocking trees to left and right That fearsome missile sped And with a final bounce it came To rest upon his head. His arms and legs were all that we could see beneath the stone. But when we came from atop the hill We heard our victim groan. Astounded, round bout we stood As day bled into night, And heard him say one final time: "My Lords, that blow was light." | |
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I quenched the steel in the ice of my veins I hear the fierd in their armor, impatient in the dawn I hear the lookout cry at sight of land, the hosting of the foes Chorus So ready axe, shield and spear To my war-horn pay good heed I'll be the first on the land today Or taste Valhalla's mead All this for life and for honor And for right of kingly sway All this for loot and for plunder And for mercenary pay! Yet says their priest, "We are brothers, Each cherished of their lord." But I say, "Let us die as we have lived, Servants of the sword!" Chorus | |
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Was playin' dominoes one night When into the room a fireman came, His face all chalky white. "What's up?" Says Brown, "have you seen a ghost? Have you seen your Aunt Mariah?" "Oh, me Aunt Mariah be buggered", says he, "The bleedin' pub's on fire!" "Oh", says Brown, "What a bit o' luck, Everybody follow me. I'ts down to the cellar; if the fire's not there, Oh, we'll have a grand old spree." So we all went down with good old Brown And the booze we could not miss We hadn't been there ten minutes or more 'Til we were quite like this: Chorus Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand... There was Brown, upside down A-moppin' up the whiskey on the floor. "Booze, booze!" the fireman cried As they come a-knockin' at the door. (thump-thump) "Oh, don't let 'em in 'til it's all mopped up." Somebody shouted "MacIntyre!" And we all got blue-blind paralytic drunk When the Old Dun Cow caught fire. Then Smith run over to the portwine tub And gave it a few hard knocks. (thump-thump) Started takin' off his pantaloons, likewise his shoes and socks. "Hold on," says Brown, "That ain't allowed. You can't do that there here. Don't go washin' your trotters in the portwine tub When we got Guinness's beer! Chorus And then there came a mighty crash Half the bloody roof caved in. We was drowned in the firemen's hose Though we were almost...happy Wo we got some tacks and old wet sacks And we tacked ourselves inside And we sat there getting bleary-eyed drunk When the Old Dun Cow caught fire. | |
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The more I lust, the more I smart. The more I smart, the more I trust. The more I trust, the heavier heart. The heavy heart breeds mine unrest. Thy absence, therefore, like I best. The rarer seen, the less in mind. The less in mind, the lesser pain. The lesser pain, less grief I find. The lesser grief, the merrier I. Therefore, I wish thy sight to fly. The further off, the more I joy. The more I joy, the happier life. The happier life, less hurts annoy, The lesser hurts pleasure most rife. Such pleasures rife shall I obtain, When distance doth depart us twain. | |
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And at the time of writing I am not a pretty sight. My body is all black and blue; my face, a deathly grey And I write this note to say why I'm not on the wall today. While working on the castle wall, some bricks I had to clear. For to throw them down from off the top seemed quite a good idea. But the bailiff, he would not agree, him being an awful sod He said I'd have to cart them down the ladder in my hod. (hood) Well, clearing all these bricks by hand, it seemed so very slow So I hoisted up a barrel and secured the rope below. But in my haste to do the job, I was too blind to see That a barrel full of building bricks is heavier than me. So when I untied the rope, of course, the barrel fell like lead And clinging tightly to the rope I started up instead. I shot up like an arrow, and to my dismay I found That halfway up I met the bloody barrel coming down. Well, the barely broke my shoulder as toward the ground it sped, And when I reached the top I banged the pulley with my head. I clung on tight, though numb with shock from that almighty blow, While the barrel spilled out half its bricks some forty feet below. Now when the bricks had fallen from the barrel to the floor, I then outweighed the barrel, so I started down once more. Still clinging tightly to the rope, I raced towards the ground. And I landed on those broken bricks that lay scattered all around. While as I lay there moaning, I thought sure I'd passed the worst But when the barrel hit the top, 'twas then the bottom burst. A shower of bricks rained down on me. I didn't have a hope And in the great confusion, I let go the bloody rope. Well, the barrel now was heavier and it started down once more And it landed right on top of me, as I lay there on the floor. It broke three ribs and my left arm and I can only say I hope you understand why I'm not on the wall today. | |
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Up from the town Wailing their tears Seeing their husbands Slain on the field The cries of the wounded Sobs of the women Death came to many Dirges were wailed I stayed by my friend Who slew on the field On the still living And their souls lingered Sagas I sang The silver of poets To summon valkyries Victorious again It was near sunset A young priest stopped And listened a while In wonder at songs He came to the side Catching the shoulder Gently he looked And grasped at his pouch Each time he touched Prayers from the text Words long remembered Making deep scars All of that darktime Fending off death From this great Norseman Treating as friends Just before dawn Kund breathed deeper I called the priest Why he had pity How can I turn All life is truth I was a student To slaughter our Abbot But I have read His sins are removed His road is short He should be swift With them was a man Son of a merchant His was the spear For many seasons I saw your eyes You know the sermons 'Give peace to your foes' Remember this priest The priest walked away For his own people I carried my friend In the van of the king But in the silence A son of two fathers Must the first one die Paths I must cross Here I must choose |
women were trudging tearing their hair finding their sons to rot in the sun whirled in the wind and whispers of breath relief to the dying and graves were dug to ward off the foes or ravens that fed while their breath labored clutching at life songs of the heroes on Kund I spent to take him to Vallhalla my valiant friend while I was singing hearing the sagas waiting in silence that blended with wails of the fallen Kund of his companion at the wounds gaping to gather some herbs each time he tended he whispered each time deep in their meaning in my memory the priest kept this duty with prayer and drug his people's foe the ones they had fought death passed them by he would not die to answer this poet on this great Pagan when prayers I sang Christ gave his sons that was his prayer. perhaps that is good. from the teachings of Patrick? all is a treasure when Vikings did sail and carry off silver. our Abbot did mention raised by our monks that slew our dear Abbot we willed him to Satan! the holy writ by the holy road and will end soon to choose who he serves saving his prayers crying in pain and gently laid Kund and kept him quiet I knew the secret a servant of two faiths for the other? gone without a trace and in choosing face |
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To inform you of one beauty Though I'd ask of you a favour Not to seek her for a while Though I own she is a creature Of character and feature No words can paint the picture Of the queen of all Argyle Chorus And if you could have seen her there Boys, if you had just been there The swan was in her movements And the morning in her smile All the roses in the garden They bow and ask her pardon For not one could match the beauty Of the Queen of all Argyle On the evening that I mentioned I passed with light intention Through a part of our dear country Known for beauty and for style In the place of noble thinkers Of scholars and great drinkers But above them all for splendour Shone the Queen of all Argyle Chorus So my lads I needs must leave you My intentions no' to grieve you Nor indeed would I deceive you Oh I'll see you in a while I must find some way to gain her To court her and attain her I fear my heart's in danger From the Queen of all Argyle. Chorus | |
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There be sober men aplenty And drunkards barely twenty There are men of over ninety Who have never yet kissed a girl. But give me the Ramblin' Rover From Orkney down to Dover We will roam the country over And together we'll face the world. There be may who fain enjoyment From merciless employment Their admission was this deployment From the minute they left the school As they save and scrape the ponder While the rest go out and squander Wee the world and rove and wonder And were happier as a rogue. Chorus Well, I've roved through all tarnation Seen the light in all creation I've enjoyed the see sensation When my company did prove kind And when courtin' was my pleasure I drank another measure To the good friends that we treasure For they are always on our minds. Chorus So when troubles do befall me To the high road I do haul me Robbin' Johnny's what they call me 'Tis me blessing and me bane Though my comrades have been many I'll take a drink with any Till I've spent me last wee penny And life I'll not see again. Chorus Wo when you're bent up with arthritis And your bowels have got colitis You've got gallopin' gollipanitis And your thinkin' it's time you died, If you've been a man of action As you're lying there in traction You will gain some satisfaction, Thinkin', Damn it, at least I tried. Chorus | |
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Who died fighting Normans with a sword in his hand. My schooling was then taken up by my uncle A pirate more clever than the scholars of France. He said, I've seen a horse, a fine Andalus stallion, I've seen a blade of the good Spanish steel I've seen a bonnet of Rhineland gilt iron, And a cunning wrought hauberk from over the sea I've seen them all, I've seen them all-a-all. I've seen them all in my travels at sea. Now my eyes met the knights as we boarded his vessel My rusty blade sundered by his first blow at me As I bore him to the deck my wound burned like fire But not quite as brightly as the things in my dreams. I said, I'll have a horse, a fine Andalus stallion, I'll have a blade of the good Spanish steel I'll have a bonnet of Rhineland gilt iron, And a cunning wrought hauberk from over the sea. I'll have them all, I'll have them all-a-all, I'll have them all with the ransom for thee. The ransom by law, well it went to my uncle A tunic and dagger were all he gave me I drank the French wine as the knights spoke of tourney And the fine things and glories that waited for me. Saying, I'll have a horse, a fine Andalus stallion, I'll have a blade of the good Spanish steel I'll have a bonnet of Rhineland gilt iron, And a cunning wrought hauberk from over the sea. You'll have them all, You'll have them all-a-all, You'll have them all if you come back with me. So I went with the knight for my heart was a lions' But I had no skill with the horse or the lance Through the pain and the shame of my training I chanted My head hit the ground, or I stumbled at dance. Saying, I'll have a horse, a fine Andalus stallion, I'll have a blade of the good Spanish steel I'll have a bonnet of Rhineland gilt iron, And a cunning wrought hauberk from over the sea. I'll have them all, I'll have them all-a-all, I'll have them all when I've mastered these deeds. The tournament field held both demons and angels Men well scarred and ruthless And ladies full fair My horse and my armour were much cause for laughter But I laughed right back when I saw the knights there For one sat a horse a fine Andalus stallion, One girt a blade of the good Spanish steel, Another donned a bonnet of Rhineland gilt iron, And a cunning wrought hauberk from over the sea I'll have them all, I'll have them all-a-all, I'll have them all when I've won them from ye Now the knights in the meadow they numbered 500 But midst that death's throng I saw clearly but three The first one still carries my lance in his shoulder The second and third lie well bitten by steel Now, I'll have a horse, a fine Andalus stallion, I'll have a blade of the good Spanish steel I'll have a bonnet of Rhineland gilt iron, And a cunning wrought hauberk from over the sea. I have them all, I have them all-a-all, I have them all and now all shall know me The ladies in the evening they looked on me frowning Saying "Any wild beast can do the deeds that we've seen" So I danced in the galliard and lilted a chansong Now all the knights grow quite jealous of me For, I'll have a horse, a fine Andalus stallion, I'll have a blade of the good Spanish steel I'll have a bonnet of Rhineland gilt iron, And a cunning wrought hauberk from over the sea. I have them all, I have them all-a-all, I have them all, all the ladies I mean By torchlight we hearkened to tales of armed pilgrims Who told us of wonders in the lands to the east Where a butler through merit became Prince of Jaffa I cried out "My lords brave a passage for me." For, I'll have a horse, a fine Andalus stallion, I'll have a blade of the good Spanish steel I'll have a bonnet of Rhineland gilt iron, And a cunning wrought hauberk from over the sea. I have it all, I have it all-a-all, I'll have it all, all the lands there for me My hauberk has warded a dozen barbed arrows My stallion with hoofs shod in iron fells three The blow of an emir is turned on my bonnet My blade swift as lightening flies straight at his teeth And, I'll have a horse, a fine Andalus stallion, I'll have a blade of the good Spanish steel I'll have a bonnet of Rhineland gilt iron, And a cunning wrought hauberk from over the sea. I have them all, I have them all-a-all, I have them all, all his lands left to me My fief on the marches looks east on Damascus A holding fit only for the fierce and the bold And I need strong vassals with hearts like a lion's To help me bring back what the caravans hold. And, You'll have a horse, a fine Andalus stallion You'll have a blade of the good Spanish steel You'll have a bonnet of Rhineland gilt iron And a cunning wrought hauberk from over the sea. You'll have them all, You'll have them all-a-all You'll have them all, all the spoils of the east You'll have them all, You'll have them all-a-all You'll have them all, if you come back with me. Chorus | |
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filk: Signs So I looked around and scratched my head and said "It's just the SCA." They said, "You look like a fine outstanding war band, we think you'll do." So I put on my hat and said "Imagine that, me fighting with you." Chorus Signs, signs, where'd they put the signs? Blocked behind the scenery, so hard to find. Drive here don't drive there, Where'd they put the signs? And the sign says, "At the next intersection, you must take a right. Then just keep on driving, you can't miss the site. They put up the signs to help me find places that I'd never been But I got lost, those signs were so small. Man, they were some kind of sin. Chorus Well hey now mister, can't you see? You've got to be a peer of the realm to get seated. You can't watch, no you can't eat. You ain't supposed to be here. And the sign says, "You have to have a waiver filled out to get on site. And the sign says, if you've got court business, you're going to have to wait. The heralds lost your paperwork and court's runnin' late. So I got me a quill and some parchment, and I made out my own AOA And when next I saw their Majesties, I just turned and went on my way. Chorus Chorus | |
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Speed bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing, "Onward," the sailors cry! Carry the lad that is born to be king, Over the sea to Skye! Loud the Winds howl, loud the waves roar, Thunderclaps rend the air, Baffled our foes stand on the shore, Follow they will not dare. Chorus Though the waves leap, soft shall ye sleep, Ocean's a royal bed; Rocked in the deep, Flora will keep Watch by your weary head. Chorus Many's the lad fought on that day Well the claymore could wield When the night came, silently lay Dead on Culloden's field. Chorus Burned are our homes, exile and death Scatter the loyal men Yet e'er the sword cool in the sheath, Charlie will come again. Chorus | |
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And one could tell by how he walked he'd drunk more than his share He fumbled round til he could no longer keep his feet Then he stumbled off unto the grass to sleep beside street. Ring-ding diddle diddle aye-dee-oh, ring dye diddly-aye oh, Oh he stumbled off unto the grass to sleep beside the street. Well about that time two young and lovely ladies happened by And one said to the other, with a twinkle in her eye "Oh see yon sleepy Scotsman, so strong and handsome built?" "Well I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath their kilts." Ring-ding diddle diddle aye-dee-oh, ring dye diddly-aye oh, "Oh I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath their kilts." Well they snuck up to that sleeping Scotsman, quiet as could be And they lifted up his kilt a little bit so they might see And there before their startled eyes, beneath that Scottish skirt, Was nothing more than God had graced him with upon his birth. Ring-ding diddle diddle aye-dee-oh, ring dye diddly-aye oh, Was nothing more than God had graced him with upon his birth. Well they marvelled for a moment, then one said, "We must be gone." Let's leave a present for our friend before we move along." As a gift, they left a blue silk ribbon tied into a bow Around the bonnie star the Scotsman's kilt did lift and show. Ring-ding diddle diddle aye-dee-oh, ring dye diddly-aye oh, Around the bonnie star the Scotsman's kilt beneath did show. Well the Scotsman woke to nature's call and stumbled towards a tree, And as he lifted up his kilt, he gawks at what he sees, And in a strangled voice, he says to what's before his eyes, "I don't know where ye been, me lad, but I see ye took first prize!" Ring-ding diddle diddle aye-dee-oh, ring dye diddly-aye oh, "I don't know where ye been, me lad, but I see ye took first prize!" Our Scottish friend still dressed in kilt continued down the street, He hadn't gone ten yards or more, when a girl he chanced to meet. She said, "I've heard what's 'neath that kilt, tell me is it so." He said, "Just put your hand up miss, if you'd really like to know." Ring-ding diddle diddle aye-dee-oh, ring dye diddly-aye oh, He said, "Just put your hand up miss, if you'd really like to know." She put her hand right up his kilt and much to her surprise, The Scotsman smiled and a very strange look came into his eyes. She said, "Why sir that's gruesome," and then she heard him roar, "If you put your hand up once again you'll find it grew some more." Ring-ding diddle diddle aye-dee-oh, ring dye diddly-aye oh, "If you put your hand up once again you'll find it grew some more." | |
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Renowned through all the Frankish lands, for battles you have won. In counsel hear ye Ganelon, make plea to go to war, To aid the rebel Saracens, against their rightful Lord. Roland, Roland, you call this plan ill made. But none the less does Charlemagne agree to send them aid, Then Ganelon requests you for the post most perilous, And willingly do you accept as honor deems you must. Roland, Roland, the rearguard you command. With Oliver, your loyal friend to ride at your right hand But at the vale of Rencesvals your doom is now aneigh, The Saracens they hold the pass and will not let you by. Roland, Roland, you know now you are betrayed. But in your heart is courage and your voice is not afraid. "Face we now grim battle, take there shields and raise them high, With honor we have lived our lives, with honor we shall die." Roland, Roland, sound your mighty horn And try to call the men back that rode out just yestermorn The King has heard your call afar, but Ganelon says "Nay, Tis only our young Roland, out hunting on this day." Roland, Roland sound your horn again. As fierce the battle rages through the valley and the glen Again the King has heard your call, again the traitor lies And none shall come to aid you since your peril he denies. Roland, Roland, sound your final blast. As one by one your men-at-arms die fighting at the pass And at the last is Oliver by swordsmen overthrown. And ye of all the Frankish host now stand alone. Roland, Roland, oh black the day you died! Your comrades slain around you, your sword by your side. They found you on the hilltop with your face turned towards the foe And never has there been a day of such great woe. Roland, Roland, your name will live in song. Wherever brave men take up arms to right a mighty wrong. The fairest flower of chivalry to bloom in all the land And the noblest of all the Knights of Charlemagne. | |
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Foamy-necked ships o'er the froth of the sea! Hengest has called us from Gotland and Frisia To Vortigern's country his army to be. We'll take our pay there in sweeter than silver We'll take our plunder in richer than gold, For Hengest has promised us land for our fighting, Land for the sons of the Saxons to hold! Hasten, oh fords-men, down to the river Dragon-necked ships on the incoming tide! The lindenwood shield and the old spear of ash wood Are needed again at the cold waterside. Draw up the shield wall, oh shoulder companions; Later whenever our story is told, They'll say that we died guarding what we hold dearest Land for the sons of the Saxons to hold! Hasten, oh huscarls, north to the Danelaw Harald Hadrada's come over the sea! His longships he's laden with berserks from Norway To claim Canute's crown and our master to be! Bitter he'll find here the bite of our spearpoints, Hard-riling Northmen too proud to die old. We'll grant him six feet, plus as much as he's taller Of land that the sons of the Saxons will hold. Hasten on southwards, strong son of Godwin Triumph is sweet and your men have fought hard. But William the Bastard has landed at Pevensey, Burning the land you have promised to guard. Draw up the spears on the hilltop at Hastings, Fight 'til the sun drops and evening grows cold And die with the last of your Saxons around you, Holding the land you were given to hold! | |
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One morning last July Down the boreen green came a fair colleen And she smiled as she passed me by. She looked so sweet from her two bare feet To the crown of her nut-brown hair Such a winsome elf, sure I shook myself For to see I was really there. Chorus From Bantry Bay to Derry Quay And from Galway to Dublin Town No maid I've seen like the brown colleen, That I met in the County Down. As she onward sped, sure I scratched my head And I gazed with a feeling rare "I says," says I , to a passer-by, "Who's that maid with the nut-brown hair? He smiled at me, and with pride says he, "That's the gem of Ireland's Crown," "Young Rosie McGann from the banks of the Bann She's the star of the County Down." Chorus At the harvest fair she will surely be there So I'll dress in my finest clothes, For I'd wear sheep's hides and be crucified For the heart of my nut-brown rose. No pipe will I smoke; nor horse will I yoke Though the plow turn a rust-colored brown 'Til shining bright by my own fireside Is the star of the County Down. | |
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filk: Strangers in the Night Stranger in the camp, drunk and benighted Stranger in the camp, unintroduced to you Stranger in the camp, so unexpected Stranger in the camp, lost and dejected Stranger in the camp, passed out in bed with you Stranger in the camp: is he expired? Stranger in the camp: he claims that he's squired! Now around his eyes, bands of tight skin glisten Asks if you can help him find his red belt which has come up missin' Stranger in the camp, he's been exiled Stranger in the camp, no one defiled Drunken victim or a tramp… Who was that stranger in the camp? | |
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On horses strong and lean Eleven belts were old and grim The twelfth was young and green. The youngest knight was newly made Eldon was his name He traveled with the elder men To earn both blade and fame. Barely tall and eighteen years Sworn new to belt and chain, He strived to all, like these men, And live as evil's bane. They tired then, as sunset came And shelter now, their quest Into a peasant's yard they rode And demanded all the best. Eldon watched as the peasants bowed And hurried to and fro To serve the noble knights requests And ward away their blows. Eldon could not understand How the treatment was deserved; To beat the peasants, these lowly folk, Who had only meant to serve. A comely daughter of the house Was grabbed and tossed about. Her brother tried to stay their hands Was beaten, called a lout. Eldon stood and drew his sword And as he freed the maid, Knocked down Sir Karl and said quite low, "The next one tastes my blade." "How can you, all sworn to truth Treat this kindness such? Perhaps you've taught me all too well For I find this way too much. "I'll take my sword and leave you now To find my chivalry For noble birth is no excuse For lies and hypocrisy." | |
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filk: T'was the Night Before Christmas Not a creature was stirring, not warrior nor thrall. The Vikings lay scattered about on the floor With visions of pillaging, looting, and more. And I in my curaiss, my greaves and my helm Was drunker than anyone else in the realm. I fell up the stairs and collapsed into bed While four quarts of mead were ablaze in my head. When down from below came the sounds of a brawl, So I grabbed up my axe and ran down to the hall. I missed the last step and crashed down in a heap, Thinking "Why can't those lowlifes downstairs go to sleep!" When what to my hungover eyes should appear But two brawny strangers with mallet and spear. I said to myself, "We'll soon have them beat" When I noticed ten warriors laid out at their feet. I let out a yell and leapt into the fray. I'll always regret the poor choice that I made. The one laid his hammer up the side of my nose, And up, up, up to the rafters I rose. Then came a lone, frightened voice from the floor, "Those are no mortal warriors, that's Odin and Thor!" They looked at each other. They said, "Battle's done." Now they know who we are, it is no longer fun. Thor raised his hammer, his elbow he bent And with a loud crash, through the ceiling they went. I crawled though the hall and flung open the door Not sure that I really had seen them before. With the snow bathed in starlight, the moon like a gleed I saw them ride off on an eight-legged steed. And I heard them exclaim as they rode out of sight, "To hell with Christmas, we just love a good fight!" | |
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